


better man ;; gwilym lee

by taylorsroger (buckyrogers)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckyrogers/pseuds/taylorsroger
Summary: The reader finds herself trapped into a relationship she didn’t want to be and Gwilym is there to help her end it.





	better man ;; gwilym lee

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by Pearl Jam’s song Better Man! It’s one of my favorite songs on Earth and it always brings me to tears. I hope I got the essence of the song into this imagine. It's kind of sad… I tried to write about someone who is afraid of changing and it ends up costing their happiness. I promise it’s all fluffy in the end! Also, sorry in advance for any mistakes. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated!

_“I can’t do this anymore. I… I don’t want to do this anymore! I’m tired of waiting for you to reciprocate my feelings. I’m leaving.”_

YN repeated to herself, gnawing on her lips nervously. She had been practicing that speech for some days. It should be good enough, shouldn’t it? Those words, although whispered, seemed to disturb the eerie silence that had settled itself in the dark room. She tightened her grip on the thin duvet over her body, pulling it closer to her chest as a wintry wind blew through the open window. The analogical clock green numbers shone in front of her, dimly illuminating her frowned features; it showed four o'clock in the morning, as it always did when he sneaked into the apartment.

It had to stop. It  _needed_  to stop.

The apartment door silently clicked close, causing her eyes to avert to the open bedroom door in front of her. The hallway was visible in all its extension, leading to the living room. Its feeble yellow light was switched on and illuminated half of the hallway. His usual surreptitious walk through the silent apartment faintly reached her ears before his scrawny shadow crossed the living room. She exhaled shakily and quickly wiped a few tears away, turning away from the bedroom door.

Before reaching the living room, he hung his leather jacket by the apartment door and kicked off his trainers, as he always did. Sweat glistened on his toned face as he dragged his forearm through his forehead. What a night. He unbuttoned his button-up shirt and reached the kitchen in order to get a freezing beer bottle from the fridge. He let the liquid reach his dry throat and sighed in relief. Then, he crossed the living room, his shadow projecting itself onto the hallway, and reached the ajar balcony door. YN had forgotten to close it before going to bed, as she always did. He pulled it open enough for him to reach the balcony, propping the beer bottle on the marble surface of the handrail. He took a cigarette from inside his button-up shirt and lit it up, letting the wintry air hit his body.

He watched the silent street below, a few cars quickly passing by. Although occasionally broken, the silence brought peace to his agitated self. He quickly finished his cigarette, abandoning it on the ashtray propped on the handrail, as he always did. He took the beer bottle in his hands, a few droplets of water spattering the living room wooden floor. YN heard the balcony door click close as he slinked away from the room, switching the lights off. His steps approached their shared bedroom as the hallway wooden floor creaked underneath his feet.

He could distinguish YN’s curvy figure on the bed, duvet wrinkled as it hugged her body. Her back faced the bedroom door, breath slowly leaving her lips as her eyes moved nervously before she closed them in an attempt to pretend to be sleeping. He looked her over, finishing the beer bottle in his hands. Nothing special crossed his mind. No. He actually often stood by the door in order to finish beer bottles while leaning against the doorframe. He wouldn’t smile at the sight of her. He wouldn’t eagerly crawl back to her and announce his arrival while gently kissing her shoulder blades. He wouldn’t feel glad to be by her side.

Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, burying themselves into the pillow. She dreamed in color. She created scenarios, picturing herself smiling as her fingers intertwined with someone else’s. She felt someone else’s lips against her skin. She heard someone else’s voice whispering in her ears  _“I’m madly in love with you.”._  A strangled sob trapped itself in her throat as she gulped it down while pulling the duvet impossibly close to her body.

It had to stop. It  _needed_  to stop.

For the past two years, she had been trapping herself in fake feelings. She had been denying herself happiness. Everything had been wrong for a long time. But she loved him. Wasn’t love the strongest of feelings, capable of overcoming any adversities? Her love for him would be enough to mend their hearts into one for all eternity, wouldn’t it?  _Wouldn’t it?_  Because the same couldn’t be said about him. He had never loved her. The relationship they had been both trapped in had turned into a convenience for both of them, which she had gladly ignored. She loved having someone to say she loved. She constantly deceived herself into loving, because she couldn’t find a better man.

Meeting Gwilym some months ago had painfully dragged her to her senses. She had met love. She had met caring. She had found a better man. However, she had been so used to fake loving her actual boyfriend that she hadn’t mustered enough boldness to confront him.  _“I can’t do this anymore. I… I don’t want to do this anymore! I’m tired of waiting for you to reciprocate my feelings. I’m leaving.”_  Would it be good enough? Would those few words be capable of capturing the essence of her two-year trapped self?

No. Never.

No word would ever be capable of expressing the hatred grumbling inside of her veins. No word would ever be capable of healing her in order to rebuild her old bold and strong self. YN knew it.

Hearing those thoughts loudly running through her mind had her actually forgetting about the man standing by the doorframe. It was only when the open window was closed with a loud thud that YN blinked her eyes open, scared. Then, he slowly crawled into bed, the soft mattress pressing under his knees and palms. His breath fanned over her hair as he dragged himself close to her. She could faintly smell the cigarette smoke on his dirty button-up shirt, which he didn’t bother to change, and the alcohol on his breath.

YN didn’t want to be near him anymore. The thought of his arms wrapping around her figure was enough to cause her to vomit. She bit her lips as she waited for the forced kiss he would always press against the skin of her exposed shoulder when he would arrive late at night. A completely fake act. Nevertheless, once again she closed her eyes, pretending to be sleeping. It would be the  _last time_. YN wouldn’t endure any of those fake feelings anymore. No.

However, her resolution lasted a week without any progress. It was past midnight when the doorbell rang loudly, causing YN to sit up straight on the bed, hands clinging to the duvet as her heart raced. Once again, she was lonely awake, waiting for the clock to reach four o'clock in the morning for him to arrive. The dark hallway menacingly stretched in front of her, shadows crossing its path. Who would it be? Actually, why would someone be standing outside her apartment at that hour?

YN’s bare feet reached the wooden floor, which creaked slightly. She winced at the sudden noise. Abandoning the duvet on the bed, she reached the hallway, leaning her hands against the walls for leverage as she had been suddenly awake from her drowsy state. The hall white light feebly illuminated the apartment entrance, trespassing the crack under the apartment door. YN switched the lights on and reached for the keys that hung beside the door, but, before unlocking it, she closed one of her eyes, approaching her face to the peephole.

Gwil stood there wrapped in a large brown leather jacket, rubbing at his arms in a failed attempt to warm his body buffeted by the wintry night wind. His hair sticked in countless directions. His lips were pressed together in a thin line as he anxiously waited outside.

“W-What?” YN mumbled to herself before slotting the key into the keyhole and quickly unlocking the apartment door. “You shouldn’t be here, Gwil.”

“Oh, shouldn’t I?” Gwil frowned, stepping inside YN’s apartment as she slowly pulled the door open, a stern tone in his voice.

“N-No,” she resolutely answered, confronting him while watching him pull at the sleeves of his jacket in order to get rid of it.

“Why?”

His vivid gaze focused on her nervous features. YN knew why Gwil was there, which caused her to feel embarrassed, weak, useless. He would finish what YN could not.

She gulped. “Because I’m fine.”

Shouldn’t he be there? He surely should. YN would never admit how glad she felt to see him standing in front of her. One should never feel ashamed of asking for help. In YN’s case, her lifeless self was a silent beg for help, to which Gwil answered before it would be too late, before she would get completely lost in a made up reality. Nevertheless, he felt extremely guilt for letting YN endure months beside  _him_. He could have helped her before and she would be spared of such suffering. How could he have been so oblivious to her lifeless state?

“You’re not fine. You’re not happy. Stop lying to yourself,” Gwil harshly replied, snapping at her attempt to hide behind false feelings, something she had become extremely good at.

“I am fine, Gwilym!” she scolded him, crossing her arms over her chest.

The words escaped from her lips with no conviction whatsoever. An annoyed expression distorted her features as she defensively backed away from him. YN refused to hear him blurt out those words, because hearing the thrush had always hurt. Because she carefully hid the truth from herself. Because she never expected Gwil to stick by her side. Because she had accepted that miserable life. Because nobody had ever helped her. Because she hadn’t been loved. Yet, there Gwil was.

“Stop lying to yourself, YN.”

“I-I’m not lying to myself,” she insisted, throat burning due to the will to cry. She gulped it down, inhaling sharply and biting the insides of her cheeks.

“Yes, you are,” Gwil glared at YN, pressing his lips together in a thin line once again. She sighed, letting her arms fall loosely to the sides of her body.

They both reached the living room. YN had harshly pushed the apartment door closed before stopping in front of the ajar balcony door, annoyedly gazing outside. She crossed her arms over her chest once again as Gwil followed her inside. He sat on one of the arms of a close armchair, watching her.

“You know it, YN. You know you’re lying to yourself,” Gwil uttered softly. YN shook her head fiercely as her eyes glistened with tears. She refused to accept that key to freedom. Listening to Gwil meant accepting  _change_.

Change.

It scared YN. It scared her, because it meant reconstructing herself. It meant reconstructing her life. It meant succumbing to a long process of acceptance. It meant recognizing her previous life had been a waste of time. It meant choosing Gwil over  _him_.

“I can’t do this, Gwil,” YN shakily whispered.

Gwil rushed to her, frowning in preoccupation. He gently pulled at her arms, ghostly running his fingers down her forearms until they reached her hands. He firmly intertwined his fingers with hers. YN’s heart raced. Gwil’s caring blue eyes bore into her sad ones. Was  _that_  love?

“Why can’t you do it?” he insisted, not letting her eyes wander around as one of his hands gently held her chin in place. “YN, why can’t you do it?”

“Gwil…”

“Who said you can’t do it?” Gwil harshly interrupted her.

YN let a strangled sob escape from her lips. Who? Who said? Her fingers pressed against his as she clenched her jaw in an attempt to not cry.

“It’s okay to cry,” Gwil desperately said.

His eyes boring into her unearthed her oppressed feelings. She had never cried in front of anyone. Actually she barely cried, always suppressing her emotions in order to not be labeled as weak. She had never let herself be vulnerable in someone’s presence. It was  _wrong_. So wrong. Yet, she nodded eagerly, resting her forehead against his chest as she let strangled sobs echo around the silent room. Gwil gulped down his own will to cry at the sight of hearing her pained sobs. His hands pressed against her back, pulling her close to his body.

“I-I… I told myself I couldn’t do it, Gwil,” she almost incoherently mumbled against his striped shirt. He nodded in answer, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. Was  _that_  love?

“Yeah,” Gwil whispered against her messy hair. “I do hope you recognize that, YN… These words are by no means meant to sound rude. I want you to recognize how damaged you are, because we have a long path ahead of us, right? We have to mend your broken pieces. For that, we need to find those pieces. That’s why I need you to recognize how damaged you are.”

At Gwil’s words, she noticed she had never been alone. At least, not since she had met him. Why had she silently begged for help instead of shouting for it? She could have spared months of suffering.

“Thank you, Gwil. Thank you. Thank you so much,” she mumbled repeatedly, closing her hands in fists around his shirt.

Gwil’s eyes glistened with tears, some of them streamed down his cheeks, falling onto YN’s hair. Then, his fingers tangled in her hair, caressing her scalp. “I care about you, YN.”

Was  _that_  love?

YN briefly nodded, tightening her grip on Gwil’s shirt. “Gwil, if this is love, I want to drown in it.”

“It’s thrilling isn’t it?” Gwil pressed another soft kiss to the side of her head. “From now on, it’s your whole new world.”

The door knob turned silently, causing YN and Gwil to avert their gaze to the apartment door. YN would  _never_  leave the door unlocked. However, something felt different that night. He noticed the feeble yellow light trespassing the crack under the apartment door. He hesitated before slowly pushing the door open. At the sight of him, YN’s nervously reached Gwil’s and held onto them as if her life depended on it.

He stopped by the apartment entrance, eyes wandering around both of the figures standing in the living room. He noticed YN’s hands firmly wrapped around Gwil’s.

“Don’t you bother coming in,” YN boldly uttered, stepping in front of Gwil.

“Are you joking?”

YN inhaled boldness. “I can’t do this anymore. I… I don’t want to do this anymore! I’m tired of waiting for you to reciprocate my feelings. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I’ve lied enough to myself! I want to be happy and for that I need you to get out of my way. You have enough women surrounding you, me leaving is not exactly a problem, is it?”

Gwil’s heart raced in his chest, violently pressing against his ribs. Blood pumped in his ears as he tightened his grip on YN’s hand. He left. He quickly left dragging his leather jacket behind him. Her dreams had become reality. Gwil had always been  _someone else_ from her dreams, a better man.

YN excitedly turned to him, a wide smile spread across her lips. She uncertainly stepped closer to Gwil and closed her eyes as her lips pressed against his. His hands gripped her sides as he passionately reciprocated the gesture. Lips eagerly moving and noses slightly bumping, YN suddenly laughed against his lips.

“Is  _this_  love?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Gwil whispered against her lips.


End file.
